FOR THE THIRD YEAR IN A ROW, NED AND SUSAN Lyle invited Chet and his family to share Easter dinner with them. For the third year in a row, Chet accepted. Holidays were still hard for him. They stirred up too many memories of when his family was whole and happy. He credited Ned, his closest friend, with helping him through the darkest times and deepest hurts, first when Rick was killed in that accident, and later when Marsha walked out on him and their two sons. Without Ned’s compassion and wisdom, Chet didn’t know what would have happened to him.
He wasn’t surprised to find others had been invited to the Lyles’ dinner. Susan was well-known in this valley for her hospitality and delicious Sunday dinners. This year, the other guests were Kimberly and Tara Welch, Janet Dunn, and the new—new by comparison to most residents, anyway—Methodist pastor, Reverend Tom Butler.
Even in April, Easter was often cold, sometimes still snowy, in this mountain valley. But not this year. The sun spread a blanket of golden warmth over Kings Meadow. While the women visited in the kitchen and finished the last of the dinner preparations, the teens disappeared into the family room to play games on the Wii, and the men went outside onto the deck to enjoy the fine weather. They each settled into a brightly painted Adirondack chair and sat in companionable silence for a long while.
It was Ned who spoke first. “Tom, tell Chet about yourself. Chet, did you know Tom came to Kings Meadow from Africa?”
“Africa?” Chet echoed.
“Yes, I served in a church there for three years. In Kenya.”
“Must have been quite the experience.”
“Oh, it was. But I have to admit, it’s good to be back in the States again, and I’m delighted to be serving the church here in Kings Meadow.”
Chet was about to ask some questions about Kenya when the sliding door to the deck opened and the men were summoned to the table. They arrived only moments before Sam, Pete, and Tara emerged from the family room. A delicious feast awaited them. After Ned said the blessing, hosts and guests dined on plum-glazed ham, scalloped potatoes, asparagus amandine, a salad made with tossed greens, strawberries, pears, and crumbled blue cheese, and homemade dinner rolls.
Although his earlier attempt to ask the Methodist minister questions about his years in Africa had been interrupted, such was not the case during dinner. Tom Butler didn’t seem to mind either. Not at first anyway. He shared several fascinating stories while the food on his plate grew cold.
Taking pity on the reverend, Susan told Tom that Kimberly and her daughter were new to Kings Meadow. “But they didn’t come from as far away as Kenya,” she added.
“Where are you from?” the reverend asked, looking at Kimberly.
“Washington. Near Seattle. I . . . we . . . I want to return there, when I can find the right job. I . . . miss the city.”
Chet glanced up from his plate. It didn’t surprise him, hearing her say that. He’d suspected as much.
Tom Butler turned his gaze toward Tara. “And what about you? Do you miss the city?”
“No, I like it here better. So would Mom if she’d give it a chance.”
“Tara,” Kimberly warned in a low voice.
“Well, you would, Mom. There’s lots here to like. You oughta come look at the stuff in the guesthouse I’m helping Ms. McKenna clean out. You’d go crazy over some of it.” Tara looked around the table. “When we lived in Washington, Mom used to go antiquing all the time. My dad said where he saw junk, Mom saw potential.” She focused her eyes on Chet, excitement lighting her expression. “Mr. Leonard, I’ll bet there’s stuff in that house my mom could fix up and sell online. You’d make a bundle.”
“A bundle, huh?” He cocked an eyebrow in Kimberly’s direction.
She flushed but didn’t answer.
Once again, Susan played the experienced hostess, this time turning toward Anna. “I’ll bet you have some stories to tell about Chet when he was a boy.”
Anna’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “A few.”
“We’re dying to hear some of them,” Susan said with a laugh.
Chet frowned at Susan, pretending a displeasure he didn’t feel. “And here I thought we were friends.”
KIMBERLY COULDN’T REMEMBER A TIME WHEN SHE’D felt as included as these people made her feel. She didn’t know why. She and Ellis had had good friends. Many good friends. They’d attended and they’d hosted dinners very much like this one through the years. And yet today felt different.
Perhaps it was seeing Tara’s smile and hearing the laughter in her voice. She’d let her daughter down so often since Ellis died. But for now, things were looking up. Kimberly was employed. They weren’t homeless. Tara even owned a horse, as impossible as that seemed.
She heard several gasps, and her attention was drawn back to Anna McKenna.
“And there Chet sat on the back of that green-broke horse, pleased as punch, holding onto his mane, while I nearly had a heart attack,” the older woman finished.
“How old did you say he was?” Susan asked.
“Only four, but he already had a way with horses. That gelding he got on didn’t so much as twitch until after I got Chet off and out of that corral.”
Her thoughts wandering, Kimberly had missed most of Anna’s story. But she’d caught enough to understand the danger Chet had been in. Did he have more common sense than that today? Would he make sure her daughter didn’t do anything foolish around the horses?
“Do you ride, Kimberly?” Anna asked.
She shook her head. “No. Not really. When Janet and I were girls, she got a pony and we rode double. I was the one in back, hanging onto Janet for dear life. I can’t say I cared for the experience much.”
“You should take a few lessons along with Tara. It would take your fear away.”
The very idea made Kimberly shiver with dread. “I’m sure Mr. Leonard doesn’t need another student taking up more of his time.” Against her will her gaze slid to Chet.
His expression was inscrutable.
“Well, if he’s too busy,” Anna continued, “I could give you lessons. My time’s not so valuable.”
Kimberly’s eyes widened as she turned toward the older woman again. “You still ride?”
“At my age, you mean? Of course I do. I even have my own horse again, thanks to Chet.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Kimberly said quickly.
“You didn’t insult me, dear. Not in the least. Plenty of folks besides you would be surprised to find someone my age riding a horse. But I’ll keep doing it as long as I’m able. Nothing so grand as sitting astride a horse, riding through these mountains on a soft summer day.”
The woman’s words almost made Kimberly want to experience it. Almost.
Chet spoke up. “If you’re interested, Kimberly, I think we could accommodate you without much trouble.”
Was that the first time Chet Leonard had called her by her given name? If he’d done it before, she hadn’t noticed. But noticing it now made her feel quite strange—and just a little delicious.